I Dream Of Jeannie 03-04 - 21 Centuries Cubed By Two free porn video

I Dream of Jeannie 03) - 04) 21 Centuries Cubed By Two Stories [Please note: While under a spell that turns a mortal into a genie, they lose *all *rights to their former names, and lives. That is, they become "non-persons". All genies can only be referred to as "genie", spelled "Jeannie", "Geni" (which is how I'm spelling our Jeannie's older sister's name *after *she loses her given name), "Geeny", "Dgeenee", "Djinnie", etc. [In the original TV series the two genie sisters, and just about all the others, *did * have the same name. That is the motivation behind my whole concept.] {Caveat: There are no historical or anthropological inaccuracies. As everyone knows, genies only occur on alternative worlds. Thank you.} 03) The 2nd Century, BC. "Mama, may I sleep with you, tonight?" =Mama? I'm in bed. That means, I'm still asleep. This is all a dream. Man! What an uncomfortable bed! It's got more lumps and sags than-= "Mama?!" the voice asked again. "Oh, sure, sure. Why not." =That voice: It doesn't sound like mine at all. I must have swallowed some helium. Yeah, that must be it. There was an accident! I'm unconscious in one of the simulators. Boy, I hope what's happened to my body is all a delusion. It's gone soft, and bulging in the wrong places, and my bones are totally mangled. ' Mustn't move, and break anything else.= A smaller body rolled up, next to his mutilated body. =This rescuer is certainly small. If I didn't know better, I would say this was a teenage.= The body put its arms around 'Mama', and hugged. A teenage boy!! "Aaaa!!" Roger Healy yelled, rolling over onto what could only be boobs (but he was feeling them from the wrong side!!), and off the straw-stuffed mattress, off the low-legged bed, onto (owch!) 'his' too wide hip. At least the floor was dirt. I have a hip bone! It sticks out like it's not suppose to stick out!! ("Mama!! What is the matter, Mama?!") Roger rolled off the hip, and onto a very wide (in comparison to 'his' upper body) butt. It was well padded, and spread out under 'him'. But only for a moment: Are those hemorrhoids!?! And he rolled over to balance between a cheek and a hip bone. ("Mama, answer me, please?! Did you have a bad dream, again?") More than the boobs swaying from 'his' chest, Roger was aware that his favorite body parts were missing. Where they should be, there were now folds that moved almost independently of each other; and within them, a ring. For some reason, he thought of a condom, going down about two inches. Only instead of he being *in *it, 'he'- "Mama? Was it that same dream, again?" The young boy, kneeling behind, put his arms around 'him' again. Again, Roger got the extreme willies. "I'm sorry, Mama," the boy said, withdrawing his arms. "I know how I can upset you, sometimes." Roger patted the boy's arm, but let him take it away, "That's alright, kid. I, uh, just, uh, woke up! Yeah. I have to get acquainted with the world. You know how it is, when you're lost in a dream of a better time and place?" [The bedroom was dark; the only light was coming from the three gaps up in the adobe wall were bricks should have been. It was dim; it had to be morning.] "Yes, I do, Mama!" the boy's spirits seemed to pick up. "I dream all of the time of when I am a real and true woman, just like Mama promised!" " "A real and true woman", hunh? Mama's more than a bit kinky." "I know!" the boy laughed. "I love you, despite your tangled hair." "Kinky?" Roger felt his hair =The boobs move. They're going to be annoying.= "I guess a conditioner's hard to get in the third world." [And it did look like he was in a unadvanced place: Besides the bed (the frame wasn't that bad. If the legs weren't so short, it could be sold in an antique shop), there seemed to be a chest at the foot of the bed (no metal parts), and a shelves between columns of bricks, with an irregular piece of sheet metal over it that was polished enough to reflect some the of meager rays coming in through those three holes. It was pathetic the few things that were laid out on those shelves.] "Yes; you were lucky to find somebody who understands about conditioning, Mama. Thank you!" "What?" Roger said, finally turning around to look at the kid. What he saw made him blurt out, "Oh, man!" The boy was so obviously a boy-despite what "Mama" had him dolled up to be. He had long black, curled (and oiled) hair; his eyebrows had been plucked and thinned (Roger really, really hated that, especially in men); eye shadow (but no mascara); rouge on the cheeks (but no powder, it seemed); and very red lipstick. But his face!! It was too wide, too square; there was just too much chin. And that nose! Even the most homely girls had smaller noses than that hooked thing. [Before 'he' knew it, Roger was feeling for 'his' own nose. 'He' missed it twice; it had to be feminine size.] Mama's boy smiled at 'him', "I will start the fire for breakfast, for you, Mama. Unless, you want me to make the breakfast, today." "You make breakfast?" "Thank you, Mama! I will attempt to do my best!" With that, the girled-up boy rose to his feet. He was wearing what Roger could only think of as a linen teddy. It was long enough to cover his upper thighs, but not the rest of his legs, unfortunately. They were covered (or so it seemed to Roger's girl-trained eyes) with black hair. At least he was young enough not to have much armpit hair. Roger Healy, U.S. Army Major, pilot and astronaut, sat on one soft cheek on the dirt floor, trying to think of how he got there. In here: A body of a woman (obviously old enough to start sagging, due in no small part, no doubt, because she had had a kid, now a teenager). "The last thing I remember was being on a date. Of course, I'm always going on dates. But this was a beauty queen: "Miss Saturn Rocket" Wow! Was she ever," 'he' smiled, welcoming the distraction from his current reality. But 'his' smile fell, "I spilled wine on her. The end of *that *date. ".Then.then-Nghhh!! I can't remember. Nothing! It's, it's like." and as he said it, he knew, "There's a big hole in my life. I'm missing somebody. "Who?! Who!?!" 'He' bent forward, to beat 'his' head against the dirt floor. 'His' once tight stomach now had a "pooch". 'He' leaned back, and grunted, and pushed.and felt (and saw under the thin linen robe) the stomach balloon out. =Yep, that's 'my' kid, alright.= = = = "Look: Your 'Mama's getting old. She forgets some things." Roger said, as 'he' was being helped along outside by 'his' 'daughter'. "But how to go to the latrine?" 'daughter' said, hovering by 'her' side, but not touching 'her' (though wanting to). "I don't know what language we're using, but "latrine" is being kind. Especially, when you have to squat down all the way!" "Mama, we have one of the finest latrines in the neighborhood. You insisted." "Okay. It's not as bad an army field latrine. But, man, going this way.." 'He' didn't bother finishing a thought Mama's daughter wouldn't understand. Or would 'she'? "Mama, I have prepared breakfast for you. I hope you enjoy it." "Where is it?" Roger said, looking in the room with only raised canvass awnings for one wall. "It's out here; in the courtyard. At the table." Mama's boy was beginning to wonder about Mama. "Just as long as it's away from the latrine." It was. Laid out on a table that could be sold at an antique shop (if the legs weren't so short) were two crudely glazed pottery bowls of porridge, and a cup of some cloudy drink. There were also two cushions. "No chairs?" "Chairs cost money, remember, Mama. They are for purposes other than mere sitting." "No chairs. How about that bench?" "Then you would have to stoop over to eat." Roger thought about it, then shrugged. "When in Rome.or wherever this place is." The kid had to help Mama get down. =Oh, man! Going down really is lets you know, doesn't it.= = = = Roger could look only down at 'his' meal. 'He' didn't want to hurt the kid's feelings; but every time 'he' had to look at 'her', 'he' couldn't help but think: Uhgly. Not to mention some adjectives 'he' would use, if 'he' wasn't trying his best to be 'charitable' to Mama's boy. Roger was, after all, 'Mama'. The porridge was made out of some kind of wheat, Roger thought; something else he wasn't use to (oatmeal, yes). It clung together, and could have been bland. Bland not like bread; bland like in damp cardboard. Could have been, but wasn't because there was some kind of powdered cheese mixed in. =Yum, tasty,= 'he' thought sarcastically. The drink was some kind of wheat beer, with much of the mash still in the watery excuse for a potable. At least there was probably enough alcohol in it to kill the germs. "Drink your beer, Mama. You always tell me it is full of vitamins." "Vitamins?!" Roger *had *to look at the kid, now. "How does Mama know about "vitamins"?" "It is something you learned in America," the kid said what 'she' thought Mama had long known. "America??!" =America! Maybe I *am *the kid's mother!.No! Think: What's a logical answer. If there was a logical answer, would I think I'm a woman!? Maybe I'm a woman, who thinks she was once a man, but if-= "Aaa!!" "What is it, Mama? Another of your attacks?" "Yes! Tell me, uh, uh-kid!" For the first time, the kid let 'her' sadness show. "Sadira." "Sa,dira! Of course, how could I forget! It was just one of my attacks, uh, Sadira. My, uh, kid, Sadira. Repeat the name often enough, Sadira, and you won't forget again. Will you, Sadira?" "Yes, Mama." 'She' was still hurt. "Now.Sadira, tell me about America." "The land of wonders? You want me to repeat my lessons? " "Yes, your lessons. ' What they teach you in school. And what *"I" *teach you." "Mama!" Sadira almost laughed. "You know they don't teach about America in school. America is just a land you made up: "Long, long ahead, and far, far away"." " "America".a land I made up." =Maybe I *am *the kid's real mother.= "Er, give me enough time to absorb this. Tell me, what lessons you *are *learning in school, uh, Sadira. Yeah," =That's right=: "Sadira." "I am learning to tell cleaver and witty stories using simple variations on a theme." Then 'she' lowered 'her' voice, "Do not worry, Mama, I have told no one about America. I am saving that. It will be one of my specialties for when I am a true courtesan. "Oh, a courtesan." And Roger smiled, "You've already decided what you're going to do. A courtesan," something troubled 'him' at the back of his 20th Century mind. "A Courtesan!!!" Roger Healy screamed. Somehow 'he' was on 'his' feet, the table and the lousy meal were tipped over onto the bricks between the plants. "You're going to school to learn to be a prostitute!?!!" "Mother, no!!" Sadira was a little slower rising. "A courtesan is more than a prostitute! She is better than any woman, even a lord's wife. A courtesan can attain the rights of a man! She, of all women, can acquire property. If she is good enough, she can go anywhere, *do *anything. And the men will only applaud her for her novelty!" Sadira was obviously repeating 'her' 'lessons'. It did not help Roger's bile. "Besides.," Sadira's mood became one of real pain, now, "I am too ugly to be a prostitute." "Then wash that stupid makeup off, and be a man!!" "Mama.." 'Her' voice broke, and 'she' began to sob, long, bitter tears that sent her back to 'her' knees. "Hey, if you're going to be a man, the first thing you've got to learn," Roger now found himself sinking to 'his' knees beside the poor, abused kid, "is to not to cry." His 'Motherly' show of support was having the opposite effect than 'he' wanted. 'She' cried all the harder. Deeper. "Hey, look at me, kid," Roger said, taking 'her' by the jaw and turning 'her ' head to 'him'. When 'she' was facing 'him', Roger found that 'he' could look beyond the surface. There was somebody under that gunk that had a soul. "Wipe those tears," 'he' said, doing just that. He allowed the kid to hug 'him'. "There, there," Roger held the kid's back, patting 'her' far shoulder. "I'll help you. Like you said, I know America. In America, we believe that nothing can't.." His words failed him. There was something about 'his' fingers. 'He' rubbed the thumb and index together, drying the tears on them. 'He', then, opened them, and looked. "It won't come off, will it, Mama?" Sadira tried to smile through 'her' lessening tears. Roger snatched the kid away from 'him' by 'her' shoulders, and held 'her' at arms length away. 'He' gaped with a very sickened expression, "It's tattooed on!!?!!" As Sadira bent 'her' head in shame, 'she' was let go of. 'She' was abandoned, as 'her' Mama ran screaming from the house. = = = "This is a nightmare! A Nightmare!!" Roger cried, wondering aimlessly the narrow alleys of featureless brick and adobe houses, whose front windows, if they had any, were higher than head level. "I'm in the body of the sickest, cruelest, most evil mother of all time!! It's *not *my kid! I couldn't have done *that *to _any _helpless child! Boy *OR *girl! Especially a Boy!!" 'He' ignored the stares of those (few) people 'he' passed; 'he' need to figure things out, and 'he' was so-o upset, 'he' had to do it out-loud. "_Who _am I suppose to be!?! This.*Woman *that would *force *her *only *son to be a prostitute-No matter how ugly he was!! A *Girl *!! That *Woman *set out on the day the poor kid was born, I bet, to *make *him be a girl!! A prostitute!! And why!? *Just *because they were poor?!! *That's *no excuse!! Besides, I've seen pictures of poorer places than *they *live in! -And *they *don't sell they're children!! That's what the whole idea of a God is all about-to keep people like that *from *doing things like that!!" Roger found himself in a bricked plaza with two and three story whitewashed brick buildings. There were enough people about to start to still his tongue. Besides, they were staring at a woman. Roger thought of the reasons he, as a former man (or so *'he' *thought) would stare at a woman. None of them were things he was ready to experience, yet. =I'm too chicken to even *want *to think of them.= There was a low adobe wall off center of the plaza, near a low, five-foot(or so)-high pillar with a large (head-sized, even) notch in it. There was a clay pot on the top of it, with a rope around it. For some reason, he thought he recognized its purpose. His mouth was dry from all that sermonizing Roger had been doing. =Sermonizing?? Me!? Roger Healy??= = = = ".wife of Darius! Madam! Sadira's mama!!" Roger swallowed the water in 'his' mouth before 'he' was really ready to. Man or woman, it felt the same going down in one big lump (of course, now, it had to 'pass' breasts). "Who?" 'he' said, when 'he' could. Before him stood a young girl, and a very cute one, too. The golden-orange haired girl had soft brown eyes beneath fairly wide eyebrows (Roger just had a thing about eyebrows), a nose a might too large (but not compared to some of the woman Roger had seen on his 'walk'), nice lips (even without lipstick). She wore a long, (pale purple) linen robe like most of those around here (like '*he' *wore); but instead of being about to see her breasts (if she had any; Roger definitely had breasts, now. And nipples.), they were covered by some kind of halter. Her hips were covered by a _"Beach Blanket" _bikini bottom of the same opaque material (velvet, maybe) as the top. Purple seemed to be her theme. "Do you not recognize me, wife of Darius?" she asked. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm, uh, just not 'myself', today. I'm, like, totally out of it. What was your name again?" "I am Sophia. I go to the same school as Sadira." "You do!!?!" Roger said, nearly backing up far enough to fall in the wall. [Apparently the jar was well enough made not to break when it hit the bricks, just chip.] "Madam!" Sophia cried, coming to help her. "No!!" Roger held up 'his' hand, warning the (it was definitely a kid, *that *much Roger was sure of) back. "As you wish," Sophia said, confused and hurt, and stepping back. Roger sat on the rim of the well (there go those hemorrhoids, again!), and looked at the 'girl' with new eyes. She was at that age where it was hard to decide just which gender she was, absolutely. She definitely wanted you to think she was a girl. There was her butt. Now, Roger never felt comfortable checking out little girls, but this one had the beginnings of a woman's butt. Either that, or she padded it. It was hard to tell in that bottom she was wearing. Then again, there was her face. Her eyes. They were not as big as Roger thought girls' eyes should be. But, maybe, they *were *larger than boys' eyes. Maybe 'he' should have accepted her help. The whole issue would be decided once 'he' touched her skin. Right? "Wife of Darius," she sounded more formal than before, "I was sent to inform you that your husband has arrived." "I have a husband, too!?!!" For a moment it was a toss up which way Roger would go. 'His' hemorrhoids wanted the well; his astronaut's training told him "splash down". His dignity as a man and a woman demanded 'he' stand on 'his' own two feet. 'He-she' did. Sophia bent forward as if she wanted to still help, but didn't because she was not allowed to. "He is back from Jerusalem. After his long trip, he is quite anxious to see you." " "Long trip", "husband", one and one make two. I don't like the way that adds up." "He says he has gotten what you require." "But he doesn't have what this "I" require. *I *got those!" "He says you must come to him." "In his dreams." ".before the troops from Jerusalem can inform the guards of Baghdad of their presence." "If the police here are anything like the police back home, then that ought give the guy time to-" ".and join with them to hunt your husband down, and kill him." "Kill him?" "If he is lucky." "Okay. Wait a minute. This day has got my brain-My brain! That proves how rattled I am. "Any way, I have to think what you said out. You're saying this guy, "Mama's husband", has risked his life, traveling all the way to Jerusalem from.What did you say this place was?" "Bagdhad, Madam." " "Baghdad", hunh?" Roger looked around again. "I thought it was more modern than this." 'He' returned to the matter at hand, "And he stole something, just because "Big Bad Mama" told him to?" "He did not quite 'steal' it, Madam." Then Sophia's face lit up, "He told me of an exploit that I shall long remember and embellish on when *I *am a true courtesan!" "There's that word again!! Maybe I should just drop this life, and make a new one for myself." "How can you think that!! After what Darius has done for you-All of your life together!?! After what you did to Sadira?! Are you going to let poor Sadira remain so hopelessly ugly?! You would make *their *lives meaningless?! Not to mention what it would mean to my own?" "Mama wrecked yours, too? That figures." "But everything can be made right!" Sophia suddenly became optimistic =Maybe she really is a girl, what with those mood swings.= "Anything is possible with the Seal of Solomon!" " "Seal of Solomon"?.Why does that seem familiar?." "You do not remember!??" Sophia cried in surprise. "You said with the Seal, you can summon forth a genie!" " "A genie"? Oh, come now!! Who believes in genies?!" "You do! You said the genie will grant you your fondest wish." Roger had a flash of some of his fantasies, "*My *fondest wish?!" Then Roger felt 'his' body around 'him'. "Mama's fondest wish. Sadira. Ooher!" Roger shivered in disgust. "You *will *get more than _one _wish, will you not?!" Obviously thinking she might be included in the dibs. Might. =Knowing Mama, I wouldn't count on it, kid.= "Well, the stories go that you get _three _wishes." "And, then, somebody else gets three!" "If you could pass the magic lamp around-" "Seal." "-seal around, *everybody *could have their wishes come true. There has to be a catch to it." "Still, if you do not try." "Yeah. Why not! What have I got to lose?" Roger looked down at the body. "This. Wish one." "Wish two, Sadira becomes a real boy, just like Pinocchio. "And wish three." the old Roger's smile, and greed, spread across the woman's face. "What about saving your husband?" "Rats. Why do I have to be one of the good guys? Oh, well. Good guys get out of their nightmares by the end of the show. "Lead on, McDuff! Take me to the magic seal!" "Madam! You know your husband did go to bring back the seal!" "I do?! What _did _the guy steal?" = = = "Your husband did not like the attentions he was getting from our students," said a woman that Roger could only describe as a high-end "Madam", literally. =Wherever you go, they seem to be about the same. That's why I never did any business with them. At least this one seems to have tried to round off her hard edges. Very courtesan-like.= Roger looked around at the 'students'. To 'his' surprise, 'he' found out most, maybe nearly all of the 7 there, *did *look like females. Unfortunately, they also looked like children to 'him'. They were all dressed similarly to Sophia, but in different colors (linen robes, velvet tops and bottoms, hair, and skin-Madam's color was gold, of course), and beyond that 'he' didn't care to dwell. =At least this is a place of learning, not 'business'. They're real 'earning potential' begins *after *they graduate.= "Papa's a good man. Stupid, but good." =Sadira, the big caper: Papa *has *to love Mama, the dope.= "Where's the thing he left for me?" "Ahh!." the Madam smiled. "Now we barter." "Now, just a moment-" Roger was about to threaten, when one of her huge, huge body guards stepped forward. "Like I said, "now we barter" (Whewl!)," Roger whistled, tempted to feel the muscles of a thigh-thick arm. "My own personal eunuchs," smiled the woman with a might too much makeup on (to hide her age. =It doesn't work.=)." "Eunuchs", as in.," Roger felt his loss even more. "You get them in all ways, don't you?" "I try. They also help with the conditioning." "Conditioning. This morning. Sadira. I get it. Sick. Okay, but before we talk about what you want, I have to see if what I want is real. Deal?" Its owner motion with a finger for a second eunuch to step forward. This one gave 'him' the rolled up parchment. "It is written in Ancient Babylonian. I *could *find a poor scholar and-" "I *can't *read Ancient Babylonian!!" "I'm surprised you can read at all. Since the beginning of the Hellenistic Age, few woman but courtesans, and bored-and-indulged noblewoman know the art. But there is another language: There, in the smaller script. I believe it's Roman." Roger looked. "It's in English!!" = = = 04) The 20th Century, AD (1962) Pop! "What? No thunder and lightning? No earthquake? Not even a gong?" Mama Vashti said, rather than asked. "It would be wasted. No one can hear or see us, or sense us in any way," said the round, but imposing swarthy Hadji in his white turban, robes, and slippers, all embellished with gold. "This is going to be like a pageant? A parade of my sins that I am to learn from?" "You shall see. Destiny, not I, has chosen your punishment," the man with the waxed to points white goatee and handlebar moustache. "H-ay! I get so sick of destiny stories. They seem to be a favorite of the Greeks. Or at least, that is Sophia's excuse for the ones she keeps telling me." Vashti shook her head, and deigned to look around her new surroundings. "This is a punishment?? It is an Eden!!" All about her was green! Trees! Lots and lots of trees! And expanses of grass-unmarred by patches of brown death or dirt-that had been cut short and manicured by a company of slaves. What wasn't grass on the ground was stone: smooth, flat paving stones all coming together in tight seams. And there, there on a stone pedestal was the largest amount of bronze she had ever seen in one place! The owner of this estate must be a wealthy man indeed! Lost in her wonder, the "Great and Powerful Keeper of All the Genies" [that was his title, though it was not strictly true; but that is another story] guided the woman by her shoulders. "What is this paradise called?" "America." "America!" the woman spun around in his hands. "Where the Young Master comes from! Where women have rights?!!" "What is this about rights for women? Just before I appeared back 2000 years ago, you were telling your "Young Master" about "a woman's place"?" "Ay! You're going to believe a woman trying to justify to a man what she did? I had just tricked him into breaking the accursed spell, I would not still be scheming? "Besides," she said, turning and moving out of his hands. "I was still, *am *still bitter about how my unapologetic first daughter, Geni, turned out." She started walking about, gesturing, and venting, "You raise your child to think for herself, and what happens when she does?! She abandons you! If it was not for that deal, I would not even get the few visits she *does *make!" The man with darkness all around his icy blue eyes was unmoved, "I hardly think Geni learned to think for herself from you." "Hah! A man! She would not think at *all *, if not for me!" "Sit!!" he ordered, pointing imperiously. She, the woman, did as she was told. It was a marble bench, like those found among the Greeks, or at least those in the Greek Quarter of Baghdad, where Sophia lived. "That bronze statue behind you: It is called _"The Thinker" _. You are to adopt its pose, and think on all the havoc you have created, the ripples upon ripples that echo through across space and time." "H-ay!" she said, doing, again, as she was told. "How long do I have to sit like this, bent over with my chin on my fist?" "Until your Destiny arrives!" With that, the Great Eunuch disappeared with special effects. "Now, he does the gong," she said, keeping in the position he had ordered her to stay in. "I liked him better when he was a schmo." So she waited, following with her eyes the strangely dressed people, men and women, that passed her. "Think, think, think.Ay, that is all I have ever been able to do. If I could have my wish, I would-" While she was distracted watching a woman in a bulky upper garment but a tight lower one that only covered, but leaving nothing of her legs a mystery =What is the point in that?=, someone sat on her-over her! Around her!! = = = A dark, crew cut young man in a cotton, button-down print shirt, white pants and loafers (and mismatched socks) sat bent over on his favorite spot in the park, his chin on his fist. But unlike the statue, his thinking wasn't getting him anywhere. (Or maybe, if you looked at it as simply a statue, then he *was *like it.) He unbent his body, and slapped his thighs, "I don't get it! I know you've heard me say that a thousand--*ten *thousand times! But this time.I don't think I shall ever get it." He stood up. "You know I was just discharged from the army. Honorably. *Our *, the U.S., Army. After just *one *year, we only have to be National Guards! We: Me, Dobie Gillis, and He: Maynard G. Krebs, were drafted; we were.Well, "happy" is not quiet the right word. But we served! We did our duty. And if there had been a war in 1961, why we would have.Probably fled to Canada. "Are you beginning to see why being "honorably" discharged is something to wonder at? It's not like me and Maynard would intentionally be disruptive, or not *try *to do as we were ordered. After all, I'm use to hearing orders. My dad gives me them all the time." =Ay! What a schmuck!= "Now, we're going to S. Peter Pryor Junior College on the GI Bill. It's a college, not a university. And it's a *junior *college, not a real college. They *have *to take just about everybody; it's like public school, grammar to high. But you pay, for this one. But, still, us? *Maynard *!??" "You rang?!" He was a loose-boned, lanky fellow with uncombed hair that fell down in short bangs, with chin whiskers that tried to be a beard; he had on a plain gray sweat shirt with its sleeves cut off, jeans, and sandals. "Maynard! Where have you been?! I've been waiting for you!" "I was, like, at the courthouse." "In city hall? Why? Did you get jury duty? Not that I can't understand why you're no longer there. After all, you're hardly the typical example of the American citizen they're looking for. No offense." "None taken, Dobe. People are just not, like, ready to understand the beat, yet." "."Beat", as in "beatnik"?" "Yeah! Jazz, and zen, and coffee-Oops! I hate coffee. The caffeine, like, gives me heartburn. Any way, I was there to see a judge." "You?! A judge!? Maynard, you may be many things, but you're *not *anything if not truthful and honest. Painfully so, I might add." "Add away. I wasn't there because of what I *did *, I was, like, there because of what I wanted did." The young man pulled in his long chin, and wondered if that was grammatical. "Okay, Maynard, what did you want the judge to do?" "Yeah: That sounds corrector. Anyway, I asked to have, like, my name changed." "What?! You no longer want to be "Maynard G. Krebs"?" "No, I'll still be loveable, if confused and confusing Maynard G. Krebs. I just won't, like, be-" Suddenly he stopped to look around. No one was within earshot, but still he said, "You know." "No, I don't know!" "The "G."." "Oh! You mean-" "Don't say it! If you're my bestest, everlasting friend in the whole wide world, you won't say it!" "OK. What is the "G." going to stand for, now?" The beat stood up as straight as he ever got, and smiled happily, and proudly, "Gilligan." = = = "Like, what you want to do tonight, Dobe? The usual?" Maynard Gilligan Krebs said, ambling along a step or two out of sinc with his good buddy. "The usual: I'm going on a date." Dobie was headed the long way, taking his time. =He is going to sit on a palm fruit?= "Like, can I come along?" "Maynard, you hate girls." "I, like, don't *"hate" *girls; I just don't see what you see in them." =And this one is a schlemiel.= "Maynard," Dobie said, slowing down for the ragamuffin to get ahead of him, "as much as we're "best, and everlasting" friends, there are just _some _things friends can't do together." "Like dating?" "Like dating, Maynard." =What is with dates, and being with girls? Is it some strange custom of this foreign land?= "Even, like, if your "bestest, and everlasting" friend is a girl?" Maynard stopped in front of him. ="Everlasting", hah! What does *he *know about everlasting? Try being pregnant for a century, *then *you will get an idea of everlasting.= "Maynard, _are _you a girl?" "I was, like, being hypothetical, Dobe." "Then have your "hypothetical" friend answer," Dobie said, walking again. =That buballa, a girl? Even Sadira would have a chance to win that beauty competition.= "Please, Dobe! It'll, like, give me the chance to try out my new name!" Maynard was following again. "I'm not going to let you try and get rid of girls! They're not bugs to be sprayed!" "One girl is," he said, stopping. A comment like that, stopped Dobie in his tracks: "No girl is! *All *girls deserve to be treated like the delicate, fragile things of fragrance and beauty they-" "Even me, Dobiekins?" "Even you, Zelda." Then Dobie Gillis did a double take, from the homely girl, back to Maynard, and back to the one girl he wished was *not *interested in him! "Zelda!!" The rather short, rather dumpy girl his age had dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail that only went down to her shoulders; her eyes would hardly be called limpet pools, her nose was a might too wide and flat, in a squashed down sort of way, her lips could hardly be described as sensual, and the shape of her face.Well, Dobie wished he could get the image that was burned into his mind out. =What is with this America? Is this the curse they must pay for their wealth? Bad looks?= "I hear you're attempting to go on another date," she told him. " "Attempting"!? Are you going to try and stop it, Zelda?!" "Heaven forfend, the Only Reason I Have For Going to a _Junior _College. I am here to help in anyway I can." =Ay! She goes to a real school! She is smart!= "Me and Dobe are going on a double date." "Maynard! It's not a double date, if only *one *of us has a girl." "You left yourself open with that one, Dobiekins." "Would *you *like to go on a date, Zelda?" Maynard asked. "You're like a girl, sort of." "Why thank you, Maynard. Sort of." "Why would I take any of you on a double date?!" "One reason: Thalia Menninger." ".Thalia. You do know about my date." "And *you *know you can't even hope to get close to your ideal of all that is feminine beauty without money." =Ay!! It *is *a pageant!= "She's got you there, Dobe. Thalia Menninger is like the Queen of Green! No dough, no beau." "And _you _Zelda Gilroy, the girl who swore I would be a virgin on our wedding day, are willing to advance me-" "Give." "Give!?! Why, Zelda? Just answer me that, why?" "Yeah, little girl: Answer that!" =They are *all *meshuga! *= "It is quite simple, as anyone with half the brain cells I possess should know, "Familiarity breeds contempt"." "Thalia already "contempts" me!" "If she did, would she agree to go out with you again?" "Zelda.If "Familiarity breeds contempt", why do you hang around me?" "It's called love, Dobie," Zelda said. "Friendship!" Maynard said. "How did _I _get to be so lucky?" =Ay!.How do I get out of this morality play?!= = = = "Maynard, if we're going to go on a date, you *are *going to have to put on your best clothes." Zelda said, as the crossed the street (=Ay! Look at that! Solid stone roads! America *is *a place of wonder! And look, there: Even the buildings have better bricks than our mud ones. And, still the Garden of Grass and Trees continue!= [She said of the college campus at the long end of the park.] =This place abounds with sights and sounds no one could imagine back home!=) "These, like, *are *my best clothes." "Then, "like", I'm just going to have to buy you something-" =Ay, she really *does *have her own property!= " Oh, no!" Maynard said, standing firm. "I won't have anybody telling me what I have to wear!" "Maynard!" Dobie said, pulling him out of the street. "What did you think they did in the Army?!" "Oh, yeah! They did do that, didn't they? Okay. I'll wear my uniform." "As much as the sight of you in our country's uniform is going to hurt public confidence and morale, I'll take it." =I have to agree, smart noblewoman.= "That means I have more money for our dates, Dobie!" Zelda smiled at him. "I *still *haven't agreed to go on a double date!" "But you will." =Ay, I am sure he will, too. Play him well.= "Why? Just because you bribe me?" "Not with money. With friendship." =Ay: There is the morality!= "I'm *not *your friend!!" "But Maynard is." "Maynard? What has Maynard have to do with any of this, besides his wanting to try out his new name?" "Yeah?!" Maynard asked. =Ay, tell us already!= "Grades." "Grades!?! Zelda, we just started college: We haven't had time to have grades, yet!" "But this is Maynard." "She's right, Dobe. One week, and already I'm two weeks behind. Next week it'll be four." "Exponential?.Yes, that sounds like Maynard. "And you, Zelda, being something of a genius-" "Something!? I have my Mensa card to prove it!" "Okay, Zelda. Maynard. You guys win." =H-ay, what a loser. It is a wonder he can collect dates for his girls, at all.= = = = "At last, I'm alone. Free to do only what *I *want to do," Dobie Gillis said, walking across the campus. =Ay: Ay.. There is another one-A chariot without horses! And look at the size of that chest that one carries! It is made of metal; it must be protecting gold!.= "What time is it?" Dobie said, looking at his wrist. =Ay, a sundial for the arm.and the shadow line moves without the sun! Three shadow lines! It must be connected to a land of three suns by magic! This land does not have three suns, does it?= "I still have nearly an hour before I have a class I _should _go to. I have the choice of going to the library, or-Why do I bother even asking myself?" As Vashti was lost like a tourist taking in all the wonders the eyes of the young man she was in happened to be looking towards, that same young man found another marble bench. There was a young college woman sitting at the other end, lost in her textbook, while she ate an apple. She was very attractive, too, if what Dobie could see of her back was any indication. She had on a neat, plaid tweed skirt (white socks and loafers) and vest, with a starched white long-sleeved blouse. =Ay!! How long has it been since I have felt that! But never from this side!! =This schmuck gets excited by even a woman dressed like that?! Ay! If I am stuck inside him, what will it be like when somebody *really *dressed to provoke comes by!= "Dobie, My Appointment for a Night of Distractions." "Thalia!!" The short, yellow haired vixen was dressed in a green linen skirt that went from just above the knees to her wide black leather belt; she wore a very wide open matching coat; she wore a blue blouse with a loose ruffle that fell down from her collar, within her bosom; her shoulder bag, and even book bag were aqua. =Ay, this one knows about makeup! Perfect!= Dobie smiled, rising, "I'm counting the minutes until our time of enchantment comes." =How can he raise?! Is it something he is so accustomed to, that he has practiced so oft.Wait a moment.= "That, I am afraid, My, Oh, So Poor, But Infatuated Suitor, is what I have come to inform you of. I cannot make it." "You heard about Maynard and Zelda!!" =Ay, that is making it loose its blood!= "If I cared about those two, I would never see you at all, Dobie. You, for some reason that I am at a total loss to account for, hold a fascination for me; in a primitive, animalistic way." "Oh, I'll take it!" Dobie grinned dreamily. =It wants to poke up, again!= "But, alas, when it comes to matters of finance, I must put feelings in a vault, and keep them for better days. I have a chance to go out with Milton Armitage III." =A magic words! The deed goes undone.= "-Milton!?! The richest- "Uh, uh! Chatsworth Osborne Jr. is the richest." "The *Second *richest boy, then, in this area! Mr. Perfect?!" "There Chatsworth cannot compete. Milton has the looks, the charm, the style, the bearing-" "You *don't *have to go into the _whole _list with such excruciating exact detail! In other words, Milton is *everything *I am not!" "True. True. One of his dates has become ill, and a spot has been opened up for me. So, you see, My Poor Errand Knight of Romance, I just *have *to grab this opportunity." "Yes, Thalia. I understand. I am afraid I do." =Ay, I wonder if it ever stands tall.= = = = Ay, Ay! The only part of a man's body I feel is pointing in the wrong direction. No release from what troubles a young man!? No hope of fulfillment!? What a punishment Hadji has given me this time!" "Here, Dobiekins!" And before he knew it, Dobie had caught a small glass bottle. "What is this, Zelda?" "Can't you see? Vitamins! They're to help you with your date tonight." "There isn't going to be any date, Zelda!" "Thalia blew you off, again, right," she stated, rather than asked. "Right," Dobie said, laying the small bottle down on the marble bench. "Will you never learn, Dobie, My Dearest? There is no magic, only science. That means me. I am the only one that will have you." "Don't forget me!" "You're not a girl, Maynard!!" "Maynard, what's wrong with your uniform?" Zelda asked. "There *is *something wrong? I thought it was just me." "Maynard! Your uniform is too baggy!" Dobie noticed, now, too. "It isn't even his uniform." "It isn't?" Dobie said, really looking, now. "You're right." He rose to his feet, and read what was written over the coat's pocket. "Lt. R. Healy." "How did you get somebody else's uniform? -An *Officer's *no less!! And those wings: A pilot!" "I don't know." = = = "Here, Mama! I brought it!" "Good, uh.Way to go, Sadira!" Roger Healy said to the ugly girl-boy dressed as Sophia had been dressed, but in green. The U.S. Army Major looked as far beyond Sadira, and all about the featureless alley as 'he' could. "Do you think the Madam's eunuch goons followed you?" "No, Mama. Sophia got to the house before anyone. She, then, promised to dress like me, and lead them away from us. We do owe her a wish Mama." "Yes! If I can think of one of the three wishes that will solve her problem as well as lets us have what we need, I will. But first we have to see if that seal thing really can summon a genie." Sadira reached within 'her' linen robe and velvet top, and took out a gold disk. She handed it to 'her' Mama. "Will it really make me a real woman?!" "Wouldn't you rather be a man, kid?" "And be like other men, and have whatever crumbs for rights those higher in station will allow? A courtesan has a chance to make her own destiny." "Sure, kid. Listen: Take it from somebody who has had to "make his own destiny" all of his life. It is not all that it's cracked up to be. Sometimes when I dream of getting whatever I can wish for, I wish had my whole life planned out for me. That way, you can *enjoy *what life has to offer you, not worry about it. "How about if I wish that you were an officer in the army? How does that sound? They take care of the details, *and *you get to see, and do different things; things a civilian probably wouldn't, or couldn't do." "Mama, what is the matter with you? You have not been sounding like yourself all day." "Right. All you see is your "Mama". Well, then, as your 'Mama', I say I know what's best for you." And Roger held the Seal of Solomon with one hand, while he read from the parchment. = = = "Maynard! Get out of that uniform! You could get in big trouble if they catch you in it!" "Right Dobe!" Maynard said, starting to unbutton his coat. Until, "What will I change into? These are, like, the only clothes I got on." "Maynard! I don't care what you wear, just change!" There was thunder and lightning, and Maynard Gilligan Krebs stood changed into the negative color image of himself with each crack of the four bolts of eldritch charge. The first flash gave him pointed deep purple slippers, the second opaque 'harem' pants, the third removed his coat and army blouse and left only a vest; they all were deep purple with gold trim. The forth, and last, placed a turban on his head. =It is happening!! It is happening!! Praise be to Ormazd!!= And she began to sing, =Ay, Ay, Ay, Yay, Ay, yay!.=) "Harold?" "You rang?" "Harold!?! Your name isn't Harold!! It's Harold! -Why can't I say Harold!!" "Because that's, like, my name. I did get a judge to change it, Dobe." "It was suppose to be changed to Harold!! There! I did it again!!" "Then that's who I, like, must be." "What, you're now a Harold? I wish you could tell me what's going on!!" "That's simple, Dobe. A herald is like a genie. Only different. A herald, like, heralds. And you are, like, my master." " "Master"?" "As in "having wishes granted"-type." "You grant wishes?" "Only to you, Dobe. What would you, like, wish me to do?" =..Ayyy---What!?! I am here, too! I, too, get wishes!!= "Oh, I don't know. See Thalia?" Harold put his hands up onto his raised arms, and blinked. "Harold, will you stop this nonsense, now?! You're not a genie!" "This is, like, harder than it thought it would be. One more try," and, squeezing his eyes shut, and grunting- Pop! "Dobie?! Dobie Gillis!! I was right in the middle of an important business proposition!" =He *did *do it!! He *is *a genie!! A real genie!!= "Thalia???" Dobie gaped wide mouth, bug-eyed. "Of course it's me! As if you didn't know." "Harold, do you know what you are: You're a genie!!" =Now me!! Grant me my wish!! One wish! Ay! Maybe two. I am your master-Mistress, too!!= "Like, that's what I told you, Master." "Master?" Thalia said, suddenly letting herself get interested in something else for the nonce. "Why is that beatnik person friend of yours dressed like that, Dobie? This is very early for Halloween." "Harold is now a genie, Thalia," Dobie smiled, pleased. "And I, as his master, can have any wish I want." =He does not hear me!! What kind of genie is he that he can not hear people who are here only in magic spirit!?!!= "You can?" Thalia said, going along with it. Why not? It wasn't as if she had anything better to do for three hours, 37 minutes. "Dobie.Do you think, as a favor, you could, uh." She was moving in, starting to play with his shirt buttons. "Sure, why not! I can be generous. .Er, that is if-" =Be generous with me, Young Master! We two share so much! Especially the good part.= "You get, like, as many wishes as the finite resources and Destiny will allow, Good Buddy." "See?!" Dobie smiled, delighted. "Harold, give Thalia what she most wants in the whole world!" "You got it!" A scrunch, and a grunt later, and. Pop! Thalia Menninger disappeared. =Ayyy!!!= "Harold!! What did you do with her?!!" "I didn't do anything, Dobie. Like, you did. You're the Master. You just gave her what her heart most desires." =I have a heart that desires, too. (Sob!)= "Bring her back!" "I, like, can't." "You *said *I could have as many wishes as I wanted!!" "I am, like, a herald, not a full genie. A real genie can change destinies, alter fate, and the like. A herald is, like, an *agent *of fate. Destiny has decided to use her wish." "What was that wish!?!" "What else? The greatest treasure of gold, and jewelry, and, like, all manner of money there is." =My wish is so much purer. No greed. Just, just.(Sob!)= "Meaning?." "You're going to have to read the story of Aladdin to find out, Dobie. It, like, takes too long to explain." =Curse you, Hadji!! Curse you to the deepest abyss of every pantheon!!! (Sob!!.)= "Well.If I can't have the real Thalia-" "Don't even think about it, Dobiekins." "But Zelda! You'd be beautiful, at last!!" "Dobie, I'm all ready beautiful, on the _inside, _where it counts, corny as that may sound. I would have to change my life just to *keep *myself beautiful. "Besides, I'm a genius. Geniuses have the power not to believe in genies, if they don't want to. And that's what I choose. I choose science, not magic. "Good-bye, Dobiekins. See you tomorrow." "Tomorrow??" And as she walked away she said, as she glance one last time over her shoulder, "I *do *believe in the relativity of time. "And love." "Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love you. I love you. You're only a day.a-way!." "Harold what's that music?!" "It's the hit song from a musical that hasn't been written, yet, Dobie, My Master." "Oh. Well, keep it, then. It makes a good theme song for us. "You know what I wish, Harold?" "The perfect woman." "Yes. I don't need a harem. Just one woman: The Perfect Woman!" "There is no such person." "Are you saying that as a genie?" "No. Each man must judge for himself what is perfection." "Fine, then, Harold," Dobie said, slapping his arm over the shoulders of his best and foreverlasting friend in the whole wide world, "Somewhere out there, in space and time, is the *one *, the _perfect _girl for me." And he hugged his shoulders. "Let's go find her." "Right, Good Master." ".Bet your bottom dollar, come what ma-ay, the sun will come out, So-ome.Da-ay!.." = = = And is Sadira Dobie Gillis's "Perfect Girl"? I have an idea who is. I hope you were surprised by this connection; I hope to surprise you even more. But, as of the time-space 'moment', Sadira *isn't *a girl yet. (And Roger is still Mama.) It has already been established that Sadira does *not *become a genie right away. She must first experience life as a real woman. .As a courtesan? That is not part of the Deal the Madam and 'Mama' Roger agreed to. Just what *is *the deal? I have an idea; I'll just have to see if the story I come up with allows her to be one. [If you'll notice, Chapters 03) and 04) are somewhat different in style. With me, within the limitations of my talents and preferences, each story is nearly an entity unto itself, requiring its own features to make it work properly. The need to tie them all together is what helps to inspire me.] OK. _"(The Many Loves of) Dobie Gillis" _ran from 1959-63. It was the very first show targeted to teens. And, if you haven't guessed by now, "Maynard G. Krebs", Bob Denver, later went on to play "Gilligan" as in You Know What. But he also did a one episode guest appearance as "Harold", Hadji's "nephew" . He was a genie in training that Jeannie was suppose to teach, just as her master Tony Nelson was expecting a visit from the President of the United States. (You think *Gilligan *was a disaster!) "Harold" is the only genie I remember from the show not named "genie". ("Hadji", like "Mama", is a title, not a name). I hope this little story starts to explain why not *all *genies are named "Genie". = P.S., Yes, I *know *Mama Vashti was being punished for _already _turning Sadira into a girl who wouldn't act like a girl was suppose to act like in her day. In a phrase familiar to some of you, "I hate time travel!" Well, what I have in mind will solve, I hope, a lot of those problems. It will give a certain "logic of non-logic", if you know what I mean.